


but i swear it's sweet

by oh_whatifyoufly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Quidditch, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, ballet at hogwarts, eating disorder tw, i don't follow canon soz, jily slowburn, teenagers with messy feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_whatifyoufly/pseuds/oh_whatifyoufly
Summary: 'Now more than ever do we need our friends by our side.'A war is waging outside Hogwarts, students are getting the Dark Mark, and muggleborns are targeted more than ever within the castle. Sixth year muggleborn Gracie Parker already has enough on her plate with NEWT-level classes, Quidditch, ballet, and a boyfriend that keeps pulling away, without being cornered by pureblood maniacs at every opportunity. Welcome to the real world. It's not much, but I swear it's sweet.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s), hey is that jily? maybe, minor sirius/ofc, wolfstar? cool i'm down
Kudos: 1





	1. shaking the wings of their terrible youth

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! it's after midnight right now, and i haven't posted a fanfic since 2011, but here i am with an idea i've had since 2009. please review if you have a chance, and let me know what you think! i remember reading a jily fic like 10 years ago that focused on having ballet at Hogwarts, so that, along with the fact that i'm a dancer, definitely inspired my desire to have my oc be a ballerina.
> 
> TW: mentions of eating disorders and casual drug use/smoking/drinking

The Sorting Hat finishes its song and Gracie sits in an awed silence. There’s scattered applause throughout the Great Hall, a buzz of hushed and frantic whispers carrying louder.  
  
‘That was . . . very ominous,’ says Emely, her hands clasped together after one or two claps.  
  
Gracie shares a glance with her and Lily, who looks just as worried. They avoided talking about all the deaths and disappearances that happened over summer whilst on the train, just for a brief moment of sanity, but now, here, it’s slammed back in their faces. Hogwarts is supposed to be a safe place, but if even the _Sorting Hat_ is giving warnings, she hesitates to know what dangers lurk ahead.  
  
She glances down the table a bit to Sirius, who is deep in a whispered conversation with his friends. He briefly catches her eye, and offers a weak smile.  
  
Professor McGonagall demands the school’s attention as she begins the Sorting Ceremony, but Gracie finds it a little difficult to focus. She claps along with the others at her table as a first year gets sorted into Gryffindor, though she’s not as focused as she normally is. A call for unity is great, but she’s seen first-hand how it doesn’t work, not now. As if the Slytherins, with their pureblood mania, would care to do anything other than rid the world of muggles and muggleborns. To them, her existence is enough for their hatred. She shouldn’t have to argue her existence.  
  
‘I do believe,’ says Professor Dumbledore once the sorting comes to an end. ‘That the best time for a speech is one post-dinner. Dig in.’  
  
‘Thank Merlin,’ says Gracie, immediately filling up her plate. ‘Lily, could you pass the pumpkin juice, please?’  
  
Lily pours her drink for her instead, a slight crease in her brow. ‘You’re awfully deep in thought,’ she muses. ‘What’s on your mind?’  
  
Gracie glances at Emely from the other side of the table; she’s looking just as concerned. ‘It’s nothing,’ she mutters, but upon Lily’s exasperated sigh, she says, ‘I dunno, I’m just – I’m not too keen on this version of the real world. For once I miss summer.’  
  
‘We haven’t made it to the real world yet,’ says Lily, cutting up her lamb shank.  
  
‘I think this summer was my favourite,’ says Emely, perking up, and Gracie appreciates this change in conversation. ‘Next summer, I propose that we take a holiday together, maybe go to the continent or something. Especially since we’ll be able to do magic outside of school.’  
  
‘I think that’s a great idea,’ says Lily. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper holiday.’  
  
Gracie huffs a laugh. ‘Term hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already talking about next summer?’  
  
‘These things take real planning,’ says Emely seriously. ‘One can never be too prepared.’  
  
‘Alright, then, where’d we go?’  
  
‘I’m thinking south of France, or maybe Portugal,’ says Lily.  
  
‘We will literally burn to a crisp out there,’ Emely says. ‘My delicate half-Scottish skin cannae handle the Mediterranean.’  
  
‘If anyone has delicate skin, it’s me,’ says Lily, running her hands over her pale, freckly forearms. ‘You and Gracie tan. I _burn_.’  
  
‘Where do you suggest?’ says Gracie. ‘If we can’t go to the Mediterranean for summer hols, where? North?’  
  
Lily makes a face as she chews her potatoes.  
  
‘We need a place that’s conflict-free,’ says Emely with a wistful smile. ‘Where we could live like muggles if we wanted, out of danger from this nonsense.’  
  
‘There’s nowhere like that in the world, I promise you,’ Lily says dryly.  
  
‘How about Russia?’  
  
Lily snorts, and Gracie smiles wryly.  
  
‘What?’ Emely demands, looking at them both with wide eyes.  
  
‘Eastern Europe probably isn’t the best place to be right now, especially Russia,’ Lily says.  
  
‘And especially if we want to live like muggles,’ Gracie adds.  
  
‘And why not?’  
  
‘The Cold War, and communism,’ says Gracie.  
  
‘Of course it’s cold, it’s Russia.’  
  
‘No, no, no,’ says Lily quickly. ‘No, it’s not because of the weather. It’s because of the threat of nuclear weapons. The USSR – Russia – and the United States are stuck in a sort of stalemate. Building nuclear weapons, going to space, trying to spread slash prevent the spread of communism in South America and Africa. Like they’re trying to prove who’s got the biggest dick.’  
  
The look on Emely’s face causes Gracie to burst into laughter.  
  
‘There’s a war going on, and no one thought wizards should know?’  
  
‘I’m sure the wizards in Russia and the US know,’ says Gracie, sipping her pumpkin juice.  
  
‘Is there _anywhere_ on this planet where there’s no war?’ says Emely, looking highly distressed now.  
  
‘I told you, probably not,’ Lily says lightly.  
  
‘It’s not like we’d go in the middle of a warzone anyway,’ says Gracie. ‘Maybe we should stick with Lily’s suggestion. I’m sure Portugal would be lovely in summer.’  
Lily nods, but Emely still looks rather apprehensive. ‘A week in Portugal before Gracie’s dance recital starts,’ Lily says. ‘I can’t believe how little time you have free in the summer.’  
  
‘Next summer’s going to be even more rough, with NEWTs,’ Gracie mutters, poking at her shepherd’s pie. ‘I have six hours of dance six days a week, and barely any time to do the summer homework, or see you two or Sirius.’  
  
‘You’ve made it this far, haven’t you?’ Lily says gently.  
  
‘Somehow.’  
  
‘A holiday will be the perfect distraction. We’ll explore, relax on the beaches under some very heavy shade,’ Emely says pointedly, but neither Lily nor Gracie could argue with that part. ‘Right before your summer of madness part six.’  
  
‘In the meantime, let’s enjoy the school year,’ says Lily. ‘We’re safe, we’re well fed, and we have each other.’  
  
Emely reaches her hands out to Lily and Gracie, an expression of pure adoration on her face; they take her hand happily. ‘I love you both so much. I am _so_ grateful for you two.’  
  
It’s not unusual for Emely to burst into these moments of pride and love, especially when wrapped in her embrace. Across the table is definitely a little too awkward for real physical contact, but Emely is the type of person who’s grateful for even a pinkie touch.  
  
By the end of the feast, Gracie is stuffed to the brim, and is, without a doubt, ready to sleep as soon as she gets to the dormitory. The food disappears, and Professor Dumbledore stands up again, looking solemn.  
  
‘Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts,’ he says, ‘and to our first years, welcome. A new year is a fresh start, a chance for all of us to reflect within and apply ourselves to our craft.’ He pauses, the school collectively holding its breath. ‘Times are changing, and we cannot neglect the truth. But, we mustn’t worry ourselves sick in the face of danger, because here at Hogwarts, we are safe. Student’s safety is our number one priority, and I hope that all of you take care of yourselves and each other this year. Now more than ever do we need our friends by our side.’  
  
Gracie exchanges glances with Emely and Lily, both of whom look apprehensive; she’s sure she looks the same. If even Dumbledore is acknowledging danger on the horizon, then it must be true. The anxiety of it all gnaws at her insides.  
  
‘On a happier note, I’m thrilled to introduce Professor Violet Davies, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,’ Dumbledore continues, and Professor Davies stands up in acknowledgement to the light, polite applause she receives.  
  
She’s very pretty, and _very_ young, as in she’s only barely left Hogwarts. Incredibly pale, dark hair, charming smile, and eyes so bright, Gracie can see the twinkle in them from this far away. Some of the older students at the Ravenclaw table cheer a little bit louder than the rest.  
  
‘It is also my duty to mention that a few more items have made it to Mr. Filch’s list of banned artefacts. Should you need to, please consult with the list hanging on his office door,’ says Dumbledore, a small smile on his face as he most certainly glances at Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter; James lets out a loud whoop, and some people nearby laugh. ‘For information on Quidditch try-outs, please consult the notice board in your common room for any information the captain of your team may have. Please note there is to be no magic in the corridor, and that the Dark Forest is forbidden.  
  
‘Now, I believe that is all. Off to bed!’  
  
There’s a scraping of benches and a buzz of conversation as students begin to exit the Great Hall. Gracie hurries off to catch up with Sirius while Lily and Emely walk up to the common room with Joy and someone she suspects is likely her brother.  
  
She spots Sirius just next to the doors, waiting for her with his friends like he promised. They’re talking lightly, but cease conversation when she arrives; Remus nods in her direction to get Sirius to turn around.  
  
‘Hey,’ she says, sliding up next to him and planting a kiss on his cheek; his arm right away wraps around her waist. ‘All right?’  
  
He gives her a dazzling smile. ‘Much better now that you’re here.’  
  
James does that thing he always does when he pretends to gag, while Remus deadpans, rolling his eyes, and Peter gives her a concerned look.  
  
‘Did you eat all right, Gracie?’ says Peter quietly.  
  
She gives him a soft smile as she snuggles herself into Sirius’ side. ‘So much I might just throw up,’ she says carelessly. The boys all turn to look at her, and she feels her face getting warm. ‘I – I’m joking, promise. I don’t . . . I don’t do that,’ she mutters, dropping her eyes.  
  
There’s an awkward pause as they continue up the Marble Staircase.  
  
‘Yeah, the food at the feast is so rich,’ says Peter, his pale eyes wide. ‘Thank goodness we won’t have another for a while.’  
  
‘Pudding was good,’ Remus says.  
  
There’s a murmur of agreement, and Gracie, her face still warm, is desperate for a change in conversation.  
  
‘So what do we know about this Professor Davies?’ she says quickly. ‘Reckon she’ll be any good?’  
  
‘Can’t be any worse than Oliver in third year,’ James grumbles.  
  
‘She was Head Girl in our second year,’ says Remus, frowning slightly. ‘Ravenclaw, I think.’  
  
Sirius grins. ‘Great memory you got there, Moony. She’s rather pretty, isn’t she?’ he says cheekily.  
  
Remus looks bored. ‘That doesn’t sound like the right thing to say in front of your girlfriend,’ he says.  
  
James glances at Remus for the quickest of moments, and Gracie shrugs, frowning. ‘She is pretty. I just hope she’s a good teacher,’ she says.  
  
Defence teachers in previous years have been rather hit or miss. Gracie can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be for Professor Dumbledore to have to constantly be on the lookout for new teachers, so it’s not surprising when some of them are rather . . . lacking in talent, knowledge, and patience.  
  
The thought of Professor Oliver makes her want to slam her head into a wall. He was the most boring and most prudish professor ever, always ready to prove someone wrong. He thrived in failing his classes, proving he’s smarter than them. Well, they were third years; of course he was smarter than them.  
  
They continue up to Gryffindor tower, and Remus gives them the new password, ‘Gilly water.’ The common room hasn’t filled up quite yet, though it’s normally a lot more calm on the first night; some people linger by the fire and windows. A couple first years are peering out the window with wide eyes, talking excitedly to each other.  
  
‘Hey, do you want to have a fag in the Astronomy Tower?’ Sirius murmurs to Gracie before they can get too far into the common room.  
  
A smoke does sound amazing; she’s been craving it all day, especially now desperate to get rid of the bloat in her tummy. ‘Oh my god, yes,’ she says. ‘Have you got a pack on you?’  
  
He pats his pocket with a smirk, and she grins. ‘I’ll see you lads later,’ he says to his friends before he and Gracie leave.  
  
‘Don’t stay out too late,’ says Remus while James makes a crude hand gesture.  
  
‘Can’t make any promises,’ Sirius says with a wink.  
  
He grabs Gracie’s hand and the two of them make their way out through the portrait hole.  
  
‘How d’you reckon we’ll keep a supply this year?’ she asks.  
  
‘Same as last year, I think,’ he says, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.  
  
She grins up at him, and he places a kiss at the top of her head. ‘You’ve still never told me how you did it,’ she says.  
  
‘A gentleman never tells,’ he says cheekily.  
  
‘Well, I know the four of you sneak off to Hogsmeade to grab butterbeer, and somehow firewhiskey,’ she says matter-of-factly, smirking as she glances up at him.  
  
‘I beg your pardon, but I have _never_ sneaked off anywhere in my _life_ ,’ he says, looking aghast and holding his hand to his heart.  
  
‘You mean, like we’re doing right now?’  
  
‘I blame you,’ he says loftily, pulling her even closer to him. ‘You’ve always been a horrible influence.’  
  
‘Me?’ says Gracie, laughing. ‘I don’t think so.’  
  
He hums and shakes his head. ‘I don’t recall ever smoking before we started dating.’  
  
‘That’s false. I have multiple reports that you and your mates have been smoking pot since fourth year.’  
  
‘Multiple reports, eh? Which means you haven’t an ounce of proof – ’  
  
‘Beyond smelling it on you?’  
  
‘From what I can recall, it’s not unlike what the greenhouses smell like.’  
  
She scoffs, letting her head fall back. ‘Greenhouses smell nothing like pot – ’  
  
‘Not always, but it’s there, believe me,’ says Sirius, quietly in Gracie’s ear. He kisses the tip quickly. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Sprout herself had a secret stash.’  
  
‘Hmm, they don’t call it Huffle _puff_ for nothing,’ she says, smirking.  
  
He lets out a bark of a laugh, and she can feel herself flush with the praise. It’s by no means an original joke, she’s well aware, but she’ll do anything to put a smile on her boyfriend’s face.  
  
They’ve reached the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, taking care to be extra quiet as they climb the spiral staircase. It’s very unlikely that Sinistra would be here, but more likely that another couple of group of friends are trying to sneak off. Both are much more common during the term, not so much the first night, but Gracie still lets out a sigh of relief when she sees it’s deserted.  
  
It’s not often that the weather is so clear on the first of September. Being so far north, Gracie’s come to expect the opposite. Though, anything’s better than the torrential downpour they all experienced during their first year, basically swimming across the lake now so strangely visible from the edge of the Astronomy Tower, as they reached the castle. Maybe it’s a good omen; good weather, good year. It doesn’t matter what the Hat and Dumbledore say.  
  
Sirius makes a questioning noise as he takes a seat next to her at the railing, holding out the cigarette for her. She allows him to place it against her lips, careful to keep it in place. When he lights it with his wand, she takes a deep inhale, feeling the smoke curl inside her lungs; she never wants to let it go, it tastes so good.  
  
‘I haven’t had this brand in a while,’ she mutters, blowing the smoke out in front of her, dazzled by the way it dissipates into the clear night sky.  
  
‘Only the best for my darling,’ he says, taking a drag too.  
  
They sit in a comfortable silence for a little while. There’s a soft breeze rustling the trees below, and a flock of owls fly by, headed for the Owlery.  
  
‘Glad to be back?’ he asks, turning to look at her. His feet dangling off the edge, he’s resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on one of the rails.  
  
‘I’m always happy to be back,’ she says softly, smiling vaguely. ‘You?’  
  
His jaw clenches just slightly, and there’s a hardness behind his eyes that she’s seen often over the summer. ‘Nowhere’s better than here, I think.’  
  
Gracie takes another drag, her cigarette widdling down far more quickly than she’d like. ‘We have only two years left, can you believe it? It’s strange to think we’ll be adults soon . . .’ She trails off, gazing at him softly. ‘Do you think you’ll stay at the Potter’s next summer?’  
  
‘I think so,’ he says shortly. She reaches out to rub his arm, and he takes her hand in his. ‘Save for a flat for after school.’  
  
‘Yeah, that’s a good idea.’ She smiles at him, but he doesn’t return it right away. ‘I know I already told you this, but I’m so proud of you.’  
  
He inhales sharply, looking away.  
  
When he doesn’t respond, she continues, ‘Where would you get a flat? London, you think?’  
  
‘It makes the most sense, doesn’t it?’ he says. ‘Far away from Grimmauld Place, but yeah, probably London.’  
  
‘Anywhere named Grimmauld Place sounds like a miserable place to live,’ she says, scrunching up her nose. ‘It’s in the name, innit? _Grim_? Like the omen?’  
  
He huffs a laugh, taking another deep drag. ‘You’ve no idea,’ he mutters.  
  
They fall into another silence, a little more tense than before, but nevertheless comfortable. Their cigarettes are barely more than stubs, and wordlessly, Sirius offers her another, lighting his own after hers first.  
  
‘What did you think about the Sorting Hat’s song?’ Gracie murmurs, leaning back on her hand. She crosses her legs and turns to him. ‘And Dumbledore’s warning? Pretty foreboding, yeah?’  
  
‘We were talking about it at dinner,’ he says with a sigh. ‘Frankly, I thought it was long overdue.’ He lets his head fall to one side, looking at her through long black lashes.  
  
She blinks owlishly at him. ‘Really?’  
  
His brows lift just barely before he gives her a sardonic smile. ‘We already know there are Death Eaters at school. Voldemort’s been recruiting them as young as fourteen, from what I hear. It might not be as bad in here as out there, but it’s about to get much worse.’  
  
‘I – I guess you’re right,’ Gracie whispers, feeling a lump form in her throat.  
  
It’s more than likely that, despite being students, many pureblood Slytherins have been Marked. What can they even do, though? It’s not like they can leave school to torture and murder muggles, nor can they do the same to muggleborns at school.  
  
‘Are you going to try to reach out to Regulus?’ she says, and immediately she realises it’s the wrong thing to say.  
  
He tenses up, nearly crushes his cigarette in his hand, and looks at her with the upmost hurt and silent rage. ‘Why should I?’ he snaps.  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ she says quickly. ‘I’m sorry I mentioned it – it was stupid.’  
  
When she reaches out to grab his hand, he pulls it away, folding in on himself. ‘He’s not my brother anymore, so why should I give a damn about him?’  
  
‘Maybe you should talk to Emely,’ she suggests. ‘She said she’s worried Kayleigh may have gotten the Mark.’  
  
‘With the company she keeps?’ Sirius snarls. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. I overheard Gordan talking to Evans about it at your show.’  
  
‘Yeah, apparently Kayleigh hadn’t been home much at all this summer,’ Gracie mutters. ‘Emely and her parents were worried she might’ve run away.’  
  
Sirius lets out a derisive snort and takes a long drag, his jaw still clenched painfully. ‘Imagine that,’ he mumbles. ‘I run away from a Dark family and she runs to one.’  
  
Gracie swallows thickly, feeling slightly out of breath. ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ she says.  
  
‘Sure.’  
  
But her brain comes up empty for any ideas. Either it’s too full that she can’t choose of the many, or there’s literally nothing there, and she can’t tell which it is.  
  
There’s a slightly bemused, yet amused look on his face when he glances at her. ‘Riveting conversation, darling,’ he drawls, sounding more posh than ever.  
  
Her cheeks feel rather warm, but she smiles anyway. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles. ‘Hard to pivot from such an unpleasant topic.’  
  
‘Understandable,’ he says, tilting his head to the side, his gaze soft.  
  
She leans in closer. ‘Have I ever told you that you have the most beautiful eyes?’ she murmurs, feeling a pleasant heat curl in her stomach that has nothing to do with the wilting fag.  
  
‘Often, but you can tell me again,’ he says, smirking as he leans in as well.  
  
‘Brighter than an overcast morning, as smoky as this . . . smoke,’ she finishes lamely.  
  
He chuckles breathlessly. ‘How did I never know you were a poet?’  
  
His eyes drop to her lips, and she quirks them up in a smile. ‘One of my many talents, luv,’ she says, dropping her gaze as well.  
  
‘Ballerina, star Quidditch player, excellent duellist, and – ah, an exquisite poet.’  
  
‘Exquisite, am I?’ She scoots even closer, smoothing his hair behind his ear.  
  
‘Exquisite.’  
  
Kissing Sirius is her favourite thing. The way their lips slide together like they were meant to be together, the hint of pudding and smoke lacing his breath, the way he holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. His hands cup her neck, her jaw, pulling her closer to him, closer than what’s actually possible; she’s tugging on the front of his robes, one hand snaking up his chest.  
  
When they pull away, she’s left wanting more. Their foreheads touching, their breaths intermingling, lips so close that they might as well still be kissing.  
  
‘Can I stay the night with you?’ she whispers.  
  
‘Why don’t we plan for the weekend?’ he says just as softly, pressing another kiss against her lips and pulling away a bit. ‘You and Prongs still doing that stupid thing?’  
  
She gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her heart. ‘ _Stupid_?’ she says. ‘It’s not stupid!’  
  
Sirius rolls his eyes. ‘When you’re no longer waking up at the arse crack of dawn, it’ll no longer be stupid. Simple as that.’  
  
‘We’re conditioning ourselves for the Quidditch season,’ she says, somewhat defensively.  
  
‘What you call conditioning, I call torture. Five in the fucking morning, _Merlin_.’  
  
She shoves him playfully, and he falls to his back, one foot dangling off the edge. ‘You take that back, Sirius Black,’ she says, climbing up his body so that she’s hovering over him.  
  
He raises his eyebrows daringly, and immediately she drops on top of him, all dead weight. He emits a loud and breathless groan, and manages out, ‘You’re killing me, woman.’  
  
‘I’m just cuddling with you,’ she says, smiling against his chest.  
  
‘Flattening me to the floor, more like.’  
  
She hugs him as tight as she can, though it’s a little awkward since there’s not enough room to wrap her arms around him.  
  
‘All right, I can’t breathe, get off.’  
  
‘I require a payment of a single kiss,’ she says with a cheeky grin.  
  
He pulls her up so that they’re nose to nose. ‘I accept your conditions,’ he says, letting his hands slide down to her waist.  
  
She grins widely and leans down to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Soft and gentle and lazy. When she pulls away his eyes flutter open, and she slides off him, sitting criss-crossed on the floor next to him.  
  
‘We should probably get back before any prefects catch us,’ she murmurs, caressing his arm and drawing little patterns with her finger. ‘Or Peeves.’ She makes a face; she’d honestly much rather be caught by a prefect than Peeves any day.  
  
‘Where’s that Gryffindor bravery? Life’s no good without a little risk,’ he says, smiling crookedly.  
  
‘You’re right,’ she says with a breathless chuckle. ‘But seeing as how I have to get up at the arse crack of dawn, I’d like to make it to bed before midnight. Ideally.’  
  
‘Speak for yourself. Us normal people have a bit more integrity.’  
  
She scoffs. ‘By all means, you can stay out. At least walk me to the common room,’ she says.  
  
‘I can do that,’ he says, and hops to his feet, smoothing out his robes.  
  
He holds out his hands, and she takes them gratefully, pulling herself up and falling into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Together they make their way back to Gryffindor tower, and Gracie is glad more than ever to be back at Hogwarts.

*

Gracie isn’t much of a morning person; she hates waking up, but she loves being awake before the sun comes up. The sunrise is one of life’s many pleasures, and not a lot of people take the time or energy to watch it. It’s special to her. The grounds are quiet and damp with dew and there’s nothing that can disturb her concentration.  
  
At five am, her alarm clock goes off. She’s quick to shut it off, careful not to wake the other girls, and slinks out of bed. After a quick trip to the loo, she puts her hair up in a sad excuse for a ballet bun, and pulls on her Gryffindor Quidditch team jumper and grey sweatpants. She carries her trainers with her as she leaves the dormitory and heads down to the common room.  
  
James is already there, sprawled out on the sofa in front of the fire, arm over his eyes. Gracie drops her trainers in front of him with a light thud, but he doesn’t jump.  
  
‘You took your time,’ he mutters.  
  
‘I took barely five minutes,’ she says, plopping down on the floor and tying up her laces. ‘You can’t have been down here long.’  
  
He removes his arm and turns his head toward her. ‘Long enough to throw myself on this sofa and pine for you.’  
  
She rolls her eyes. ‘I swear, you’re worse than Sirius.’  
  
He pushes himself up, grinning. ‘You know he had to get it from somewhere,’ he says.  
  
‘You two are so perfect for each other,’ Gracie deadpans.  
  
‘I’m so glad you think so,’ he says. ‘Are you ready?’  
  
She hops up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. ‘As I’ll ever be,’ she says. ‘Let’s go.’  
  
They make their way out of the common room and through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady grumbles as they clamber out, and says, ‘This again, hmph!’  
  
‘Every goddamn morning, dear Lady,’ says James cheerfully, spinning around to throw her his most charming smile. ‘I’ve missed annoying the bugger out of her.’  
  
‘You’re insufferable,’ says Gracie, feeling, as always, the constant need to roll her eyes around him.  
  
‘All part of my charm.’  
  
She snorts. ‘Charm? What charm?’  
  
‘The charm that will make Lily Evans fall in love with me this year,’ he says, puffing out his chest.  
  
Gracie punches his shoulder.  
  
‘What the hell?’ he whines, nursing his new wound.  
  
‘Never in a million years,’ she says.  
  
‘How would you know?’  
  
‘Because I know Lily,’ she says, crossing her arms and shaking her head. ‘She is too goddamn stubborn and petty to give you what you want. Especially after what happened after OWLs.’ She gives him a dirty look.  
  
He just smiles, ruffling up his hair. ‘I definitely got her attention then.’  
  
‘You got a reaction.’  
  
He shrugs. ‘It’s attention either way,’ he says lightly, smirking.  
  
Gracie, once again, rolls her eyes. She swears one day they’ll just fall out of her head if she continues hanging out with James. ‘Little word of advice, mate, if you want a girl to go out with you, you might want to stop riling her up,’ she says. ‘Maybe, just maybe, if you no longer antagonize her, she might go from hatred to indifference.’  
  
‘What an improvement,’ James says blandly.  
  
‘It’s one step closer to liking,’ says Gracie. ‘I mean, you’ve gone out with girls before. Did you get their attention by being a dick to them?’  
  
‘They don’t matter to me,’ James mutters. ‘Padfoot always said I should try and get my mind off Evans.’  
  
‘It doesn’t look like that worked out too well,’ Gracie murmurs, glancing at him and sort of feeling sorry for him.  
  
‘No kidding.’  
  
They continue to walk in silence for a few minutes. Gracie always prefers walking whilst inside the castle, instead of jogging down the Grand Staircase, to slowly warm up her body, particularly her knees, before going any faster. The floor doesn’t give as well as outside does, and she wants to avoid injury as much as possible.  
  
It’s always colder in the Entrance Hall than anywhere else in the castle, for the most part. It’s not unbearably cold at the moment – give it a month, and it’ll be awful until March – but rather refreshing instead.  
  
James pushes the doors open and they begin their jog down to the Quidditch Pitch. The air is chilly and crisp now, autumn quickly approaching. This feeling of the oncoming season is Gracie’s favourite part, as the weather begins to cool and the air isn’t as heavy as in summer.  
  
Surprisingly, it’s been incredibly dry recently, the least amount of rain they’ve had since they started at Hogwarts. The less rain, the better, especially for their morning exercises. James has gotten pretty good at a gripping charm that prevents them from slipping in the mud, at least downhill, but hopefully he won’t need it anytime soon.  
  
Gracie easily passes him, noticing with a grin how he’s already starting to get tired. ‘Pick up the pace, Captain. You can’t let your Seeker show you up.’  
  
‘I bloody hate you,’ says James, only somewhat out of breath.  
  
‘Have you not been practicing?’ she asks, cocking her head to the side.  
  
‘I have been practicing.’  
  
She grins even wider as they approach the Pitch. ‘All right, four laps around the pitch, what do you say?’  
  
‘What, only four?’ he says running his hand through his hair. ‘Last year we were doing eight.’  
  
‘Yeah, after a full year,’ she says as they duck through the entrance leading into the stands. ‘You’ve had all summer to laze around.’  
  
‘ _Laze around_?’ he repeats somewhat shrilly. ‘Parker, you ought to know me better than that.’  
  
‘All right, then,’ she says. ‘Full sprint. Four laps. Ready? Go!’  
  
She speeds off, leaving him struggling to keep up. Admittedly she has a decent head start; he’ll easily catch up to her now that he’s more in his rhythm, but she refuses to make it too easy for him. She spent all summer working her arse off in ballet, and she won’t stop now. Quidditch season won’t begin for a little while longer, so she’ll at least have some more free time than usual. Though – she glances back at James, who is right on her heels, face full of determination – she has a feeling he’ll be a pretty strict captain, demanding multiple nights a week of practice.  
  
They finish their laps ten minutes later, and take an additional half lap to cool down. Gracie is well aware she’s red in the face – she can feel it – and she rolls up her sleeves, hands propped up on her lower back as they walk. James takes off his glasses multiple times to wipe the sweat from his face, and his hair is sticking up more than usual. Usually they don’t talk during this time, give themselves a chance to lower their heartbeats and control their breathing.  
  
‘Twenty minutes of strengthening, stretching, then brooms, yeah?’ says James, glancing at her.  
  
She nods. ‘Y’know, I didn’t think I’d be out of shape.’  
  
‘You’re not.’  
  
‘But I am,’ she says. ‘See how bloody out of breath I am? It’s not usually this bad, right?’  
  
He shrugs. ‘Running’s a different cardio than ballet, innit?’  
  
‘Still,’ she mutters, pushing her hair back. ‘Alright, let’s do this.’  
  
Crunches, push ups, squats, lunges, planks, and side planks. Their normal routine. Gracie adds her jumps, some random combinations she remembers from her miscellaneous ballet centres. James does some form of mediocre stretching from a distance.  
  
‘Something I don’t get,’ he says, brows furrowed, ‘is the jumping.’  
  
Gracie stumbles out of her sissonne, and frowns at the unexpected statement. ‘You don’t get jumping?’  
  
‘The blokes at your dance thing were doing cool jumps, but I didn’t see any of the girls do it.’  
  
‘Yeah we were,’ she says slowly.  
  
‘No, you were doing the – the –’ He demonstrates a very, very poor arabesque.  
  
She can’t help but laugh. ‘That was dreadful to watch.’  
  
‘You know what I mean.’  
  
She rolls her eyes, back on her bullshit again. ‘Core strength, quads, hamstrings, ankles, feet, etc., etc.’  
  
‘Should I add jumps to our team warm up, then?’  
  
Gracie shrugs. ‘If you think it would help. I’m sure I could help you come up with a simple combination for whichever unfortunate souls join our team.’  
  
He clicks his tongue, grinning. ‘Thanks, mate.’  
  
She joins him in stretching, real stretching unlike what he’s doing; she swears he’ll pull something or break something because he’s so damn careless. ‘When are you planning to hold auditions?’  
  
‘ _Auditions_?’ he repeats, incredulous. ‘Auditions for what, _the ballet_?’  
  
She flushes. ‘You know what I mean,’ she mutters.  
  
He takes a moment to laugh at her, and she holds her tongue. ‘Nah, this weekend,’ he says. ‘I’ll get McGonagall to reserve the pitch for Saturday morning, I think. The sooner the better.’  
  
‘What are you thinking, starting from scratch?’  
  
‘We already have to replace a Chaser, Keeper, and Beater,’ he says, counting off on his fingers. He looks at her and smirks. ‘What, you don’t think you’d make the team if I did?’  
  
‘No, I know I would,’ she says defiantly, sticking her chin up. ‘But last year the team wasn’t as good. I’d like to win the Cup again.’  
  
‘Nothing beat third year team,’ he says, his eyes glazed in reminiscence. ‘We were fucking _unbeatable_.’  
  
‘All thanks to me, I’d say,’ says Gracie cheekily.  
  
He scoffs. ‘Barely.’  
  
She grins widely. ‘What, you don’t think so? First year I join the team and we win the Cup?’  
  
‘We were plenty good before you came along,’ says James in a huff.  
  
‘Apparently not good enough to win the Cup,’ Gracie says lightly. ‘I dunno why they didn’t just make _me_ the Captain, honestly.’  
  
‘So, what, you could turn the team into a bunch of bloody girls?’  
  
‘What’s wrong with that?’ says Gracie shrilly.  
  
‘No, nothing,’ he says, somewhat sarcastically.  
  
She stands up sharply, glaring at him. ‘You’re a fucking prick.’  
  
He just rolls his eyes. ‘So you keep telling me,’ he deadpans, obviously losing interest in this conversation. ‘Brooms, yeah?’  
  
‘Fine,’ she snaps, and goes inside the Gryffindor changing room to fetch her broom, James right on her trail.  
  
Along with his own broom, he grabs the trunk full of Quidditch equipment and drags it out to the centre of the Pitch. He kicks it open, and grabs the Quaffle, raising his brows and offering it to her.  
  
“All right,’ she mutters, and mounts her broom.  
  
For the next couple of hours they’re up in the air, passing the Quaffle around, both stationary and while flying the length of the Pitch. In all honesty, Gracie hates this bit of training, just because it forces her to bulk up in places that aren’t supposed to be as muscly. There’s a certain body type for ballerinas that focuses more on subtlety of musculature – more lower trap than upper traps, more elongated smaller muscles over bigger, bulkier muscles. That’s why she’s a Seeker instead of a Chaser. Seekers are meant to be smaller.  
  
When she reaches for the Snitch, she can use her proper back muscles that stabilises her core. When she passes the Quaffle, it feels wrong. But she does it anyway.  
  
For the last half an hour before they head back up to the castle, James lets the Snitch out, and the two of them race to catch it. As much as she hates to admit it, he is a really good Seeker – no, he’s really good at everything. He can easily settle into any position, and excel, especially Seeking, and it is so goddamn annoying.  
  
‘Watch this,’ she says after they let out the Snitch for the last time, grinning back at him over her shoulder.  
  
She zooms off after the Snitch, holding herself steady on her broom, and slowly pulls one foot at a time out of the stirrups. The Snitch nears the ground, hovering at the corner of the Pitch, and she leaps out to grab it, folding into a forward flip toward the front of her broom. She’s not too acrobatic, but she knows she has enough strength to carry herself all the way through.  
  
From the ground, she holds up the Snitch, her chest heaving as she waits for James to reach her.  
  
‘Well that was unnecessary,’ he says haughtily, dismounting his broom.  
  
‘Yeah, but it looks fucking cool, doesn’t it?’ she responds, leading the way back to the trunk.  
  
She puts the struggling Snitch back in its pocket and steps back to allow James to close the top.  
  
‘Yeah, if you want to show off,’ he mutters.  
  
She laughs. ‘Oh, is that a bad thing now?’  
  
He ruffles his hair while dragging the trunk back into the locker room. ‘It only works for some people.’  
  
‘Like you?’  
  
‘Of course,’ he says with a smirk. ‘Come on, I want to actually eat before class today.’  
  
They jog back up to the castle, as they always do – the one last little burst of cardio while they’re already tired to push them just a little bit further. Depending on how much time they have before their first class, they may or may not shower first. Today, however, a shower is very much needed.


	2. with her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean

Gracie arrives in the Great Hall to see Lily and Emely already sitting about halfway down the Gryffindor table. James peels off from her when he sees his friends, and, after allowing Sirius to give her a quick squeeze of the hand, she makes her way over to her friends.

There’s a plate of food already waiting for her when she sits down, a big helping of eggs, bacon, and some orange slices.

‘How was your practice?’ says Emely as Gracie takes her seat.

Gracie picks up a piece of bacon delicately and pulls off a small piece, popping it into her mouth. ‘Exhausting.’

‘You’re mad, I tell you,’ says Lily, sounding like she’s not close to being awake. She’s leaning heavily on her hand, elbow propped on the table. ‘For more reasons than one.’ There’s a shout of laughter down the table, and Gracie looks to see it coming from James, of course.

‘It’s not that bad, honest,’ Gracie says thoughtfully. ‘He’s not that bad, either.’

Lily gives her a withering stare, but Gracie just shrugs.

Closer to the staff table, Professor McGonagall is talking with Jennifer Harper and Joy Shacklebolt, their fellow Gryffindor sixth years. Jennifer’s looking rather smug as she’s handed her timetable.

‘What are you thinking of taking this year?’ Emely asks, her mouth full of eggs, having followed Gracie’s line of sight. ‘Looks like we get to choose finally.’

‘Everything I need for Accidental Magic Reversal,’ says Gracie. ‘And nothing else. The bare minimum.’

‘I approve,’ says Lily, stretching her arms over her head and yawning widely. ‘Don’t need it, don’t take it. Boring class? Pass.’

‘Wow, Lily, who knew you were such a poet?’ says Emely sweetly while Gracie laughs.

But Lily brushes it off. ‘I’m thinking I’m not going to continue with Care of Magical Creatures or History of Magic.’

‘Can’t really do the latter with a P, anyway,’ Gracie mutters.

Lily narrows her eyes. ‘Didn’t you get the same result?’

‘Yes,’ says Gracie. ‘And I’m not going to pretend to drop it. I don’t _care_ enough.’

‘What a shame,’ says Emely softly. ‘If Professor Binns weren’t such a bore, the class might be kind of interesting.’

‘Well he is, and it’s not,’ says Lily, then straightens up as Professor McGonagall approaches them. ‘Good morning, Professor.’

‘Good morning, you three,’ says Professor McGonagall with a sharp nod. She’s rifling through a small stack of parchment, and consults her notes once she comes to Lily’s. ‘It looks like you’re cleared to take the subjects we spoke about last year, Evans, here you go – ’ She hands the timetable to Lily. ‘Gordan, very good here. You’ll do well to continue onto all of these if you still wish to be a Healer – ’

‘I do!’ says Emely eagerly.

‘Here you are, then. Parker – ’ She turns to Gracie. ‘You’ve received an Exceeds Expectations in Ancient Runes, but didn’t apply for NEWT level?’

Gracie shakes her head. ‘I don’t think I need it,’ she mutters, feeling her cheeks warm under the intense gaze of Professor McGonagall.

‘Hmm,’ says Professor McGonagall, and hands the new timetable to Gracie before continuing on down the table to the boys.

‘Fine by me,’ says Gracie, letting out the breath she was holding as she studies her schedule.

‘I didn’t know you got an E in Ancient Runes,’ says Lily, but Gracie just shrugs.

‘It’s fine, it wasn’t my favourite. Let’s have a look, then,’ she says, glancing at Lily’s schedule.

‘It’s pretty empty even with Ancient Runes and Herbology,’ Lily murmurs, munching on a sausage. ‘Fridays are basically clear.’

‘We’ll miss you in Herbology,’ says Emely, pouting slightly.

‘You’ll be plenty fine without me, I promise,’ says Gracie with a smile. ‘I can’t wait to hear what kind of monstrous plants you’ll be fighting to the death against.’

‘I’ll write my will now,’ says Lily, smirking.

‘Well, since we have a while until Potions, it’s no excuse for you not to eat your breakfast,’ Emely tells Gracie, a stern expression on her face.

Gracie grumbles but picks up her food anyway. It’s sweet of them to help her out, but she hates the constant doting from her friends, like she’s a fragile teacup that will shatter in the slightest breeze. And it’s not that she’s not hungry. It’s just all this extra pressure to get her to eat, but she can’t eat too much or else she can’t look at herself in the mirror.

She feels sick.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she mumbles, dropping the orange slice and pushing away her plate. She can’t even look at her food, despite the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She knows they must be disappointed in her; hell, she’s disappointed in herself. ‘Sorry,’ she mutters, dropping her head into her hands, feeling embarrassed. It’s been a while since this has happened; she feels even more stuck in her head than she’s ever been before.

‘Please don’t apologize,’ says Emely softly, and Gracie can feel her rub her back soothingly.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Lily asks.

Gracie shakes her head and heaves a sigh, sitting back up. ‘I – sorry, no, I – ’ She cuts herself off, unable to grasp the words properly. ‘No, let’s talk about something else. Some – anything.’

There’s a moment of silence. ‘Did I tell you lot about the gnome fight I witnessed the other morning?’ says Emely finally.

Both Lily and Gracie stare at her, and after a pause, Lily bursts out laughing. ‘What?’

Emely smiles slyly. ‘Okay my mate and his fam were at my house a couple days ago for breakfast, and he’s of age, so he Confunded some gnomes and we watched them tussle.’

‘Does that happen often?’ says Lily, looking as though she’s torn between reprimanding and laughing outright again.

‘Nah, you’ve been over, you know usually we just toss them,’ says Emely. ‘But these buggers kept popping up – specific gnomes that I recognised – so we made them fight instead.’

‘To the death?’ Gracie asks, her eyes wide in alarm.

Emely laughs and shakes her head. ‘’Course not, it’s just a tussle, wrestle, whatever you want to call it. Honestly I cannae imagine we didn’t think of it before, because one of the ones who did win threw the loser out of the garden.’ She claps her hands, job well done. ‘They’re doing all the work for us, cannae complain.’

‘Even after all this time in the wizarding world, there are still things that I just . . . ’ Lily trails off, a wild look in her eyes. ‘I can’t quite grasp.’

Emely shrugs. ‘You know how my family lives in the middle of nowhere. I cannae imagine places like Edinburgh or London having any gnomes running around – even James’ house don’t have any, and he lives outside the city. It’s just a thing.’ She sounds so nonchalant, it’s borderline absurd.

Lily exchanges a glance with Gracie, her eyes still wide, and Gracie starts laughing. Emely snorts into her pumpkin juice, and this is exactly what Gracie needs right now. Stupid, nonsensical conversations with her best friends in the entire world, because nothing really matters, does it?

*

Professor Slughorn seems far too excited for this competition for Gracie’s taste. He’s nearly jumping for joy at the prospect of crowning a champion, though there’s hardly any question as to who would win: Snape or Lily. Gracie hopes Lily destroys him; Merlin knows _she_ won’t be able to.

She’s staring into her cauldron, eyes wild and hands in her hair. ‘What the fuck,’ she whispers, glancing down at her textbook as well.

She’s followed every step, so why isn’t her potion turning lilac? Why is it _blue_?

‘Why is yours blue?’ says Sirius, frowning as he peers into her cauldron.

‘I dunno,’ she says with a groan, letting her head fall against his side; he rubs her back sympathetically. ‘It’s official, I’m submitting my resignation post-haste.’

‘Oh, darling, no need for the dramatics,’ he says with a rather dramatic sigh.

‘Me, dramatic?’ she says before letting out a huge sigh as well and dropping her head to her desk. It feels nice and cool on her flushed face.

‘My mistake,’ he says sarcastically. He pauses. ‘It’s not that bad, honest.’

She snaps her head up to glare at him, but he holds her gaze, eyebrows raised in challenge.

‘How the fuck do you got it like that, Padfoot?’ says James, and the both of them look to him. He’s looking very flustered, his hair sticking up more than usual as he peers into Sirius’ cauldron.

Sirius shrugs.

James’ is, on the other hand, looking a bit green, and smoke is starting to rise out of the top of his cauldron. Gracie can’t tell if the putrid smell is coming from his potion, or some of the other unfortunate students nearby. Either way, it’s beyond repair, just like hers.

‘All right, and how are we doing here?’

Gracie doesn’t bother to supply Professor Slughorn with a response as he walks over to the three of them.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ says James, far more smoothly than he appears.

Professor Slughorn raises his eyebrows at him and tsks. ‘I’m not too sure about that, my boy,’ he says, and turns to Sirius. ‘Not bad, Mr. Black. And Miss Parker?’ She looks up at him miserably. ‘Valiant effort, my dear. Very close.’ He pats her shoulder before wandering off.

She lets out a groan. ‘I hate this class.’

‘At least Sluggy likes you,’ James mutters, pointing his wand at his cauldron. ‘ _Evanesco_.’

The stench lingers even after the concoction inside vanishes, and he makes a face.

‘I wouldn’t say he likes me,’ says Gracie, furrowing her brows slightly.

‘He just loves his ballerina superstar,’ says Sirius softly, leaning over and kissing her forehead. ‘No matter how bad she is at Potions.’

‘That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,’ she deadpans.

Of course, that’s the only reason Professor Slughorn is even interested in her. Ever since she told him she’s a ballerina, he’s been utterly fascinated, to the point where she’s always invited to every single one of his Slug Club meetings. He’s even asked her to perform a few times, though she’s always been as reluctant as she is to actually attend those dumb meetings.

‘Ugh, if you two are going to be gross, do it somewhere else. My potion already makes me want to vomit,’ says James.

‘Don’t act like you’d be worse with Evans,’ says Sirius, far louder than he should.

Lily whips around and narrows her eyes at him. ‘Keep my name out of your mouth, Black,’ she snaps.

‘How are you going, Lily?’ Gracie asks, desperate to calm the tension.

Her expression softens for Gracie, and she gives a cheeky grin. ‘On my way to first place,’ she says, and turns back around.

‘What would you do with the Felix, Sirius?’ says Gracie thoughtfully.

‘I’d use it to pull off the best prank ever,’ he says, his eyes glassing over slightly. ‘When nothing could go wrong – ’

‘Go all out, like that one – ’ James interrupts excitedly.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ says Sirius, his eyes wide. ‘It would never work otherwise.’

‘Think we could nick some off Evans once she wins?’ says James, leaning in close and lowering her voice.

Gracie makes a face. ‘Why would she ever do that?’ she asks.

‘Come off it, what the hell would she do with it?’

She blinks, bewildered. ‘Anything she wants?’ she says incredulously. ‘Mate, I only asked what you’d do with it, hypothetically.’

‘And hypothetically we’d do the thing,’ says Sirius, seriously.

‘The thing,’ she deadpans. James snickers.

‘Yes. And what about you, darling?’ says Sirius, reaching for her hand.

‘Not a clue. Maybe just a random perfect day,’ she says.

‘Nah, that’s boring!’ says James.

‘Sorry not everyone’s got a _thing_ like you.’

James says to Sirius in a low voice, something Gracie can’t quite catch.

Sirius barks out a laugh and elbows him in the ribs. Before Gracie could retort, Professor Slughorn calls their attention to the front of the room.

‘Now it was a very, very close contest between our own Miss Lily Evans and Mr Severus Snape,’ he says, his hands resting on his large belly as he beams at the two of them. From next to Gracie, Sirius makes a face. ‘But the winner of the Felix Felicis is Lily!’

Lily flounces to the front of the room as the rest of the class gives scattered applause; Snape is looking exceedingly sour, but he says nothing as he cleans up his station.

‘Congratulations, my dear,’ says Slughorn as he hands her the Felix. ‘Use it well.’

‘Thank you, Professor,’ she says, grinning.

On her way back to her table, she holds up the Felix for Gracie to see, and grins even wider. Gracie rushes over to her; Emely is already fawning over it.

‘Wow,’ she breathes, inspecting the vial closely. ‘What are you going to use it for?’

‘I don’t know,’ Lily responds. She places it carefully in the pocket of her robes. ‘I’m sure I’ll find some use for it.’

‘Congrats, Lil,’ says Emely, her eyes wide. ‘I’m so jealous.’

‘Thanks,’ says Lily, a look of relief on her face. ‘That was a really difficult potion. I’m surprised I managed to finish it at all.’

‘Yeah, mine turned blue and I decided I was done,’ says Gracie, glancing warily back at her cauldron.

‘I’m really glad you’re taking this class with me,’ Lily says as she begins packing up.

There’s a rustle as the others in the classroom do the same, mild grumblings and chatting as Professor Slughorn dismisses them.

Gracie sighs. ‘It’s not my first choice, I’ll tell you that,’ she mutters. ‘Next time, will you sit with us?’

Lily glances over at Gracie’s table, where James and Sirius are putting away their supplies, laughing loudly. ‘Maybe you could come sit with me and Emely,’ she says, not bothering to disguise her disgust at the display.

‘Only if you’ll help me,’ says Gracie.

‘Of course I’ll help you,’ Lily says, smiling softly. ‘You should probably clean up, though,’ she adds, and Gracie realizes that the other students are starting to leave.

‘Oh, right.’ And she rushes over to her station.

Sirius had already cleaned up for her for the most part, Vanishing her destroyed potion. He and James were waiting for her, and she gave Sirius a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks.

‘You don’t have to wait for me,’ she says, shoving her book in her bag.

‘Nah, I don’t mind,’ he says. ‘But I am starving, so hurry up.’

She rolls her eyes, and she, Emely, and Lily follow James and Sirius out of the dungeons. It’s always nice to get out of there, back into the natural light and more open area. It’s no wonder all the Slytherins are so awful, considering they live down there; if Gracie had to do so, she’d go mad within a day.

*  
  


Professor Davies is bent over her desk rifling through some papers and folders when the sixth years enter class. She smiles when she sees them, her white teeth almost blinding contrasted with her dark lipstick. She is even prettier up close, and Gracie can’t help but glance at Sirius to gage his reaction; he doesn’t seem too affected.

‘Hi everyone, please find your seats,’ she says with a very strong Yorkshire accent.

Having so many Defence professors over the years, it’s pretty easy to tell how they’ll be for the entire year based on what they do at the beginning of class. If the professor is good, they’ll start practical, desks pushed to the side and wands out; if not, then they’ll be sitting at their desks for the entire year. But surely Professor Davies, having just barely graduated from Hogwarts a few years back, wouldn’t be okay with teaching just theory? Shouldn’t she remember how awful it was to not do anything but copy down notes in class?

Gracie follows Lily and Emely to the far side of the classroom, closest to the windows. She lets her bag fall to the floor with a soft thud, and takes her seat. Emely has already taken her textbook out, but both Gracie and Lily have left theirs in their bags; hopefully they won’t need it.

Professor Davies is still smiling as the rest of the class files in. It’s far bigger than a normal Defence class, though all four Houses are in here; it seems as though enough people haven’t continued onto NEWTs to make it so.

‘Welcome to sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ says Professor Davies, propping herself up on her desk. She waves her wand at the blackboard and the words _NEWT level DADA_ appear. ‘I got to say, sixth and seventh year Defence were by far my favourite subjects whilst I was at Hogwarts, so you’re in for a treat. Before we start with today’s lesson, I want to go over the plan for the next three terms.’ Again, she points her wand at the blackboard and more words appear.

‘Biggest thing for this year: nonverbal spells. You’ll see it in your other classes as well, but I find it’s much more useful in Defence Against the Dark Arts. For five points, can anyone tell me why there might be an advantage, let’s say in a duel?’

A few hands go up. Professor Davies picks a Hufflepuff girl in front.

‘Because you’re not announcing your spell before you perform it, it gives you a slight head start,’ she says.

‘Beautiful, Brianne,’ says Professor Davies, grinning. ‘Five points to Hufflepuff.

‘Brianne is absolutely correct. This lack of warning, this head start, if you will, is _crucial_. Even if your opponent is a strong dueller, it’ll be more difficult for them to guess what spell you’re performing, and how to block it. However, this is very challenging to get the hang of. For the last five years you’ve been verbalising your spells, so you’ll have to concentrate very hard on not letting the words slip out. Luckily, we’ll be working on them all year, so by the time you’re taking your NEWTs, I promise you’ll all be experts.

‘Now, what kind of spells are we going to be practicing nonverbally?’ She pauses, glancing around the room briefly. ‘Jinxes, counter-curses, counter-jinxes, and of course defensive spells. A lot of this will be review of what you already know, but nonverbally, but we will also be learning a few other more advanced spells.

‘I have a brief understanding of what you’ve covered in previous years, and I want to stay as consistent as possible with the official curriculum. Therefore – ’ Once again, she points her wand at the blackboard; the writing that was there disappears and is replaced with a list. ‘We’ll be doing short reviews of OWL-level spells and Dark Creatures before, but – ’ She smiles wryly – ‘I promise I won’t make it too boring. After all you’ve passed your Defence OWL, and that’s why you’re here. So obviously you must know what you’re doing.

‘So,’ she says, leaning back on her hands against the top of the desk, ‘we will additionally be covering Dementors, Inferius, Basilisks, to name a few. As we learn about Dementors we’ll be learning, also, how to cast a Patronus.’ Several people gasp, and Professor Davies grins.

‘And finally, we’ll be learning about the Unforgivable Curses.’ At this, some of the Slytherin boys look at each other, mutter something under their breath, and smirk. ‘I’m not going to be teaching you how to cast them, but we will be spending a few classes before the winter hols learning about them, what makes them Unforgivable, and how to resist the Imperius Curse.’ She smiles. ‘It’ll be great fun, let me tell you.

‘All right, now that we know what this year is going to look like, why don’t we get started? Grab your wands, and let’s move the desks aside. Make sure your bags and books and all that are against the wall, too, so we don’t trip over them.’

There’s a rustle and shuffling as the class gets up and begins moving all their things to the side of the classroom.

‘She seems really good,’ says Gracie, nudging her bag with the side of her foot. ‘I’m kind of excited for this class.’

‘Honestly, as long as she is, like, slightly better than Oliver, I don’t give a damn,’ says Emely.

‘Just hearing his name makes me want to kill myself,’ Lily grumbles, using her wand to mime slitting her throat.

‘Same,’ both Gracie and Emely say.

The three of them share a look and burst into giggles as they and the rest of the class congregate around Professor Davies.

‘All right, now everyone partner up. There should be an even amount in this class, so there shouldn’t be any problems.’

James and Sirius immediately step closer together, and while Emely and Gracie have partnered up, Lily goes with Remus. It doesn’t look like Pettigrew’s in this class.

‘Perfect!’ says Professor Davies, beaming. ‘Now I want you to spread out so you have enough room, and we’re going to practice disarming your partner.’ As the students began spreading out around the room, she continues, ‘You will take turns casting _Expelliarmus_ nonverbally. The most important thing, which I know helps me, is to visualise the word in your mind. You know what the spell does, and if you think it rather than say it, you’ll have the best luck. Go on now! I’ll walk about the room and help anyone who needs it.’

Gracie turns to Emely, who’s looking rather apprehensive. ‘Right, want to go first?’ she asks.

‘Eh, why don’t you go?’ says Emely, her eyes wide. ‘Let me . . . figure it out for a sec.’

She’s definitely not the only one, Gracie realizes as she glances around the classroom. Though they’ve barely just started, it looks as though the large majority of the class is struggling. Even both James and Sirius look to be having a hard time.

That’s . . . not encouraging. Is it really that hard?

She grips her wand tightly, taking a deep breath. And, wow, it actually is that hard. The word threatens to spill from her lips automatically, and she takes a moment to collect herself.

_Expelliarmus_. Nothing happens. The usual flow and tingle of magic isn’t there, like someone’s put a stopper on her reserve.

‘All right?’ says Emely.

Gracie nods, and readjusts her stance, her grip on her wand. She inhales deeply, closing her eyes, trying to force the magic to flow once more.

_Expelliarmus_.

To her immense surprise, Emely’s wand goes flying out of her hand. Gracie doesn’t catch it, letting it clatter to the floor in front of her. Emely stares at her, and she stares back, and Emely breaks into a huge grin.

‘Look at that! You did it!’ she says, drawing some attention to the both of them.

Gracie smiles sheepishly, and picks up Emely’s wand. ‘That was weird,’ she says, handing Emely’s wand back. ‘It was easier than I expected.’

‘You’re the only one, it looks like,’ says Emely, and the two of them look around again to see the struggling room. Though, it looks like Snape might have already done it before her, but he doesn’t count. ‘Well, the only one that matters,’ she mutters, and Gracie laughs.

‘All right, why don’t you have a go?’ Gracie says.

It takes Emely a much longer time to get the hang of casting _Expelliarmus_ nonverbally, and she’s red in the face the whole while. Gracie’s left standing in a defensive position for a pretty long time, and it gives her plenty of time to think.

Why is it so easy for her to cast nonverbal spells? Is that even something to dwell on? Fifteen minutes in, very few people have managed to disarm their opponent, but seemed to have had a difficult time achieving it. She’s always considered herself a good duellist, but does that translate to using nonverbal spells? Beyond the split-second advantage is there anything else? She doesn’t necessarily feel more powerful; no, the magic feels the same to her. Is it the way she thinks?

‘All right here?’ Professor Davies makes their way to the two of them, a kind smile on her face.

‘Struggling,’ says Emely, sounding very out of breath. ‘But Gracie’s got it good.’

‘That’s great to hear,’ says Professor Davies, turning to Gracie; Gracie’s eyes go wide with the sudden attention. ‘Let’s see it.’

Gracie nods, her heart pounding. She takes a deep breath and points her wand at Emely. _Expelliarmus_.

And Emely’s wand goes soaring through the air again, but this time Gracie catches it.

Professor Davies looks ecstatic. ‘That’s fantastic, Gracie! Five points to Gryffindor. How many tries did it take you?’

Gracie tosses Emely her wand back, and shrugs. ‘I did it on my second try.’

‘Impressive,’ says Professor Davies, nodding. ‘Emely, why don’t you have another try? You’re so close, I can tell.’

‘It doesn’t feel that way,’ says Emely, her face screwed in concentration.

The added pressure of having Professor Davies can’t have helped Emely in the slightest, because she’s even more flustered than before. Professor Davies seems to realise that, and continues her walk around the room, promising Emely five points for Gryffindor once she gets it.

A few minutes pass, and Emely is getting more and more frustrated, until –

Gracie feels a tug and her wand goes flying. It’s a fairly weak disarming spell, but it definitely did what it’s meant to do.

Emely is staring in pure awe, and Gracie breaks into a grin and pulls her into a hug once she picks her wand back up. ‘Look at that!’ she exclaims, now unable to care at the looks that she’s getting. ‘Pure brilliance, I tell you!’

‘That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,’ says Emely, her shoulders shaking from her shocked laughter.

‘But, hey, you’ve done it once. You got the hard part out of the way,’ says Gracie. ‘Try again, yeah?’

Emely huffs out a laugh, and nods. She sets up her stance as Gracie goes back to her original spot, her eyes wandering once again. A smirk settles on her lips as she sees Sirius just a little ways away, completely focused on James, and points her wand at him.

_Expelliarmus_. His wand goes flying to her, and the look on his face is well worth it.

‘Erm, disarm your partner only, Gracie,’ calls Professor Davies from across the room; James is laughing, pointing at Sirius, who sticks his tongue out at Gracie.

She holds up his wand, a cheeky grin on her face. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,’ she says, and tosses it back to him.

‘I let you do that,’ he says petulantly.

‘Of course, darling.’

This isn’t the worst first day of Defence Against the Dark Arts that she’s had. After the majority of the class has managed to disarm their partner, they each take turns nonverbally stunning a dummy at the front of the classroom. It’s very reminiscent of their second year Defence set up, but Gracie won’t complain about that. Professor Davies seems to have a clear understanding for Defence and for teaching, so Gracie can allow herself some hope and excitement.

‘For fucks sake,’ she says to Lily and Emely as they exit the classroom a little while later. ‘I thought she’d go easy on us.’

‘A foot-long essay for the first class?’ says Emely in a whine. ‘On the first day?’ She lets her head fall back dramatically, her back arching as she continues down the corridor.

‘At least it makes sense, though, right?’ says Lily slowly, as though testing the others’ reactions.

‘No.’

Lily huffs. ‘This is nothing,’ she says. ‘I was talking to Marlene – you know she’s Head Girl now – and she says after OWLs, the workload is unbearable. Like, mental breakdown type.’ 

‘That makes me feel loads better,’ Gracie deadpans as they make their way down to dinner. ‘At least we’re not the only ones suffering.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Emely says with false cheerfulness.

**Author's Note:**

> fic title and chapter title both taken from Hozier's Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene


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